


whatever's broke in my brain

by shiningyjae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Humor??, Kinda, M/M, ballet dancer!renjun, everyone except renmin (and hyuck) appears like once, pianist!jaemin, there is like no angst at all, this is cheesy and gay, this is just fluff and cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningyjae/pseuds/shiningyjae
Summary: He has seen many people dance in his life, has even found himself in front of a mirror a couple of times, but none of them tied the music around their moves quite like the Chinese boy in front of him does.





	whatever's broke in my brain

**Author's Note:**

> right ahead of you, you can see what is almost 12k of bad writing and rushed plot. this is really bad and i'm sorry, i feel bad for uploading it, but here you go. don't expect too much of this.  
> kind of bad family relations are mentioned for 0.2 seconds.  
> i also made idle's soyeon and kard's somin sisters because they have the same last name and both used to do ballet when they were younger  
> i read this so many times i feel like throwing up even looking at it, please go easy on me. this is not betaed and barely edited, and it's not good. have fun.
> 
> this is based on a prompt on tumblr but i cannot find it anymore, i will link it as soon as i find it.

The music comes to him naturally, it always did. He closes his eyes and lets his fingers dance over the keys, having already memorized the notes. The deep and mellow sounds resonate up to the high ceilings of the room, and before he knows it, it’s over. His hands float over the keys of the piano. They feel unnatural, big and useless, now that he isn’t using them to play anymore.

He lets his eyes stay closed for a moment longer, still almost feeling the music in his heart.

“That was beautiful, Jaemin,” a voice interrupts the steady melody. He opens his eyes to see Mrs Choi hovering by the edge of the instrument, a warm smile on her red lips. “Really, you improved a lot.”  

He knows he didn’t, because it was already perfect the last time he played this piece for her, but he doesn’t tell her that. She says the exact same thing every time, anyway. So he just smiles, nods, and says, “Thank you, Mrs Choi.”

Mrs Choi pats the roof of the piano twice, the rings on her fingers clacking loudly against the wood. The sound makes Jaemin cringe internally. He wonders if she left any marks in the varnish. “Actually, Jaemin,” she starts, dropping down on a stool and folding her legs underneath it. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something. Have you seen the posters about this year’s winter ballet?”

Jaemin nods, while a smile already settles on his face. It’s not the first time a conversation started like this.

Mrs Choi smiles back. “I know it’s only September, but the ballet club is already in the middle of preparations, and they’re looking for a pianist for certain pieces. Since you’re one of my best students and are experienced with this kind of things, I told them I would ask you if you’d like to undertake that task.”

The smile on his face broadens at the praise, and Jaemin nods again. “I would love to do that, Mrs Choi. You know you can always count on me with things like that.”

“Wonderful.” The teacher turns around on her stool and starts sorting through the note sheets scattered on top of it. “I’ll give you the songs next week, as well as some more information about the play in general. Okay?”

Jaemin nods, eager, and gets up. “Of course, Mrs Choi.” He takes his coat and bag from the hanger by the door and puts his own note sheets into his folder. “See you next week.”

“See you next week, Jaemin.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe my best friend is a star.” Donghyuck is sprawled out on the couch in the corner of the music room, his note sheet on the floor by his feet, forgotten. They came here to practice their assigned song, but Donghyuck hasn’t even touched the piano yet.

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I’m not a _star_ , Hyuckie.”

“This is the, what, fifth time you’ve been specifically requested to play at whatever kind of performance they’re organizing? You are a star, Nana, at least here.” Donghyuck pulls the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter, squishing his cheeks. They had to move up into one of the mostly unused music rooms upstairs for their unscheduled practice, and the janitor didn’t turn the heating on here yet.

“Having a couple of college professors remember your name is not equivalent to being an actual star,” Jaemin mutters, but Donghyuck pretends he didn’t hear him.

Of course, Jaemin likes the attention he gets from his music teachers and a couple of other professors for his skill at the piano. He’s been taking lessons all his life and it’s good to see his hard work pay off. What he doesn’t like is Donghyuck being dramatic and blowing it up to be more than it actually is.

“Can we get started now?” he asks louder, and Donghyuck looks up with a sigh. “I have a study session with Jeno planned at five.”

“Fine.” Donghyuck scrambles to his feet and pushes his hood off his head, leaving his unmade hair messy. He takes a step towards Jaemin and the piano before stopping abruptly. “Ooh, is that them?”

Jaemin turns around to follow Donghyuck’s line of sight, which leads his gaze out the window and through the one of the neighboring building. Inside, there is a class of athletic people in tight gym clothes warming up for what seems to be ballet. The younger boy shrugs. “I guess so.”

Donghyuck drops onto a stool next to Jaemin. “Dude, you see that guy by the mirror at the front? I wish I looked that good in leggings, I should ask him for his leg day routine.”

Jaemin does see that boy. While the other young men and women in the room chatter animatedly with each other while stretching, the guy Donghyuck pointed out stands a little besides the group, headphones plugged in while stretching his leg over the barre. Donghyuck is right, he does look good in leggings for a guy.

To Jaemin’s right, Donghyuck finally begins to play, and the younger boy quickly spins back around his stool, flattening his note sheet against the stand and waiting for his part to come.

 

* * *

 

September passes by in a blur. Jaemin spends most of his free time in the unused music room upstairs, practicing the pieces he is to play at the ballet until his fingers feel sore. It’s warmer here, now, since he informed the janitor that he would be using the room and the friendly man turned the heating on right the next day. Jaemin always makes sure to leave a quick thank you note and a bit of spare money on top of the piano before he heads home for the night.

And when his fingers hurt from playing for too long, he rests them in his lap and turns his gaze out the window, where he can usually find the ballet class practicing one building over. Their practices are less individual dancing now, and more organized choreographies, so that Jaemin can actually make out roles.

They are doing a production of The Nutcracker, a ballet they have done countless of times before, just with different dancers. Jaemin remembers his parents taking him to see it for the first time, in the auditorium of this very university, a week before Christmas when he was seven years old. They went to see the Christmas ballets here nearly every year after that, and Jaemin knows The Nutcracker by heart.

The boy Donghyuck pointed out the first time they saw them practicing is the male lead, the nutcracker. And from what Jaemin has seen of his dancing so far, he deserves that role. His movements are smooth and graceful, his posture nearly impeccable. Jaemin feels weirdly drawn to watch him dance, the curve of his body almost addicting.

He can always see the three teachers running around the room, correcting poses and giving advice. He knows Mrs Jung and Mr Park, because he worked with them for the class’s spring play last year, but the third instructor is new and certainly young.

Mrs Choi visits him up here whenever she has time, and she also makes him play the songs during their weekly lessons. The pieces are hard and require a lot more time and practice than Jaemin anticipated, but they also make something warm blossom in his chest whenever he feels the familiar notes waver through the air, knowing that for the first time, _he_ is the one producing them, and he thinks that it’s all worth it.

It’s already October when he gets to meet the ballet students for the first time.

The new, young instructor introduces herself as Mrs Kwon, a professional ballerina who teaches in her free time. She’s bright and knows the struggle of the young, often poor students, and Jaemin immediately takes a liking to her.

Most of the students are okay, too, even though they are all kind of focused on getting their steps right instead of the new pianist. The ones that remember him from the spring ballet smile at him when he passes, and the others bow politely in greeting, and that’s all he can ask for.

They practice together from then on, because Mrs Jung insists that dancing to live music is a lot different from dancing to the recording, and seeing how the dancers Jaemin previously saw excelling at their parts suddenly struggle, he supposes she is right.

He is organizing his note sheets into his folder after a practice with them, his mind already counting how much money should be left in his jar at home and contemplating whether he could afford a slightly more expensive Chinese takeout dinner, when a voice jerks him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, your name is Jaemin, right?” He turns around to find the female lead standing in front of him. She’s quite petite, but her face is sharp and fiercely pretty, and her shoulders and back are straight.

He nods, his throat suddenly tightening at her piercing gaze. But, as if noticing his discomfort, her face breaks into a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. We just wanted to introduce ourselves quickly, since we will be working together a lot over the next months. I’m Jeon Soyeon, I dance Clara.” Jaemin knows that, but he smiles and nods anyway as she continues, “You may know my older sister, Jeon Somin. She already graduated, but she still participated in the spring ballet last year. She might dance the sugar plum fairy, this time.”

Jaemin nods, faintly remembering that name. He also remembers the other female dancer badmouthing her for returning and stealing a big role from one of the actual students, but he decides not to tell Soyeon that.

“Oh!” Her face lights up and she turns to her side. “And this is …”

Jaemin feels like the breath got knocked out of him, feels a little like his insides are on fire when he notices the boy standing to her left, a little behind her. His posture is just as good as Jaemin presumed it to be from his stalker position in the opposite window.

“Huang Renjun.” His voice is velvety smooth, and while Jaemin is not exactly surprised, he still feels something tingling at the back of his spine. “I dance the nutcracker.”

Jaemin is a little overwhelmed by how beautiful the boy in front of him is. And he is not someone to use the word _beautiful_ often, saving it for just the right people and the right moments. But this boy just happens to be the definition of the word, with his honey-colored skin that looks so soft Jaemin desperately wants to touch it, and his dark-brown hair that falls into his almond-shaped eyes. He’s not very tall, a couple of centimeters shorter than Jaemin himself, and the giant, fluffy sweater he’s wearing makes him look even smaller.

“I know.” The words escape his lips before he can do anything to stop them.

Renjun raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “You know?”

Jaemin’s cheeks flame up, and he is scrambling for words for a moment. “I mean, yes of course. I saw you dancing before, I know your roles.” The other boy doesn’t show any response, his face empty, so Jaemin quickly, before anyone can stop him, adds, “You dance very beautifully, by the way.”

His face still unresponsive, Renjun only scoffs. Jaemin frowns. A ‘thank you’ would’ve been fine too, he thinks, but he doesn’t say anything.

“So.” Soyeon claps her hands together. She seems to be the empathic kind, sensing awkwardness and tension between people. When Jaemin turns back to look at her, she’s still smiling, but her eyes are flitting back and forth between the two boys anxiously. “Renjun and I were about to head out for dinner, would you like to join us?”

Renjun is frowning when Jaemin’s eyes dart over to where he is standing. He’s just about to deny the offer, when the other boy beats him to it. “I thought we were going alone, noona, why are you inviting him?”

Soyeon’s smile stays in place, but her eyes harden when she looks back at him. “I’m just trying to be nice. He hasn’t done anything, has he? Why are you being so rude?”

Renjun shakes his head and opens his mouth again, but this time Jaemin is quicker. “Thank you, Soyeon-ssi, but I already have plans—” he doesn’t, but he needs some kind of excuse—”so I’ll be leaving now. See you next time.”

On his way down the hallway, he could feel both Soyeon and Renjun staring after him.

 

* * *

 

Jaemin and Renjun don’t get along, and that is a fact known to everybody who has to work with them. Jaemin can’t even really explain how it happened, and he doubts Renjun can. All he knows is that two weeks ago, he was ogling Renjun through the window, marveling at the grace with which he moved his body to the music, and now the two of them are shouting passive aggressive remarks at each other across the ballet classroom.

Every time Renjun takes a wrong step, Jaemin is ready to give his opinion on it. This, of course, requires his eyes to constantly follow the other boy, which results in him hitting a wrong key on occasion. In return, Renjun is also always quick to make a snarky comment about it.

In short, the two boys are both being jerks to each other, and it massively annoys everyone around them.

The other dancers have learned to avoid their presence to not get caught in the middle like poor Soyeon once did when she was trying to tell Renjun off for his behavior, and the dance instructors and Mrs Choi have left their cool exteriors behind and snap at the boys whenever it happens, visibly irritated. Even Donghyuck and Jeno roll their eyes when Jaemin brings the lead dancer up, while Mark just shakes his head and stays quiet.

And when Jaemin isn’t hurling insults at his new nemesis or studying with his friends, he holes himself up in the upstairs music room to play until someone finds him there and drags him back into real life.

“It can’t go on like this, Jaemin.”

He jerks around. He didn’t hear Mrs Choi enter the room, but there she is, standing by the door with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, as always, but her eyes are unusually fierce, making her look almost scary, something Jaemin would normally never associate with his kind and soft teacher.

“What can’t go on like this?” he asks, one hand still hovering over the keys, unsure.

Mrs Choi scoffs and takes a step forward, the heels of her boots clicking against the hardwood floor. The sound makes Jaemin shiver unintentionally. “Whatever is going on between you and Mr Huang has to stop,” she says.

Jaemin wrinkles his nose and opens his mouth to reply something along the lines of, _It isn’t my fault that he’s being such a jerk for no reason_ , or, _Well, if he wasn’t so arrogant I’d have no reason to be like this when I see him_ , but Mrs Choi cuts him off before he can even say anything. “And don’t look at me like that, I don’t know what happened between you boys, and I don’t care. All I’m saying is that you need to make up. Or at least pretend to get along for the time we work on this ballet. Being around you two is exhausting at this point.”

Jaemin shrinks a little under her hard gaze, the irritation bubbling in his stomach calming down. She’s right, it _must_ be exhausting to work around two people who never seem to stop pissing each other off.

“If you two can’t find a way to make up on your own—and with that I mean, if it doesn’t get better within the next couple of days—me and the other teachers will come up with a solution. And you can trust me when I say that you won’t be happy with it.” With that, she turns around and walks back out the door. Jaemin flinches a little every time her heels hit the floor. Almost around the corner, she turns her head back again. “Oh, and don’t stay in here for so long again. You need to eat and sleep at some point.”

 

* * *

 

Jaemin tries, he really does. He fears he might get kicked out of the production if he misbehaves any longer, so he enters the ballet classroom the next afternoon with the mind to be as nice as possible to Renjun. If only to show Mrs Choi that he is still her well-behaved favorite student that he was before he met that boy.

He smiles at Soyeon and bows to her like he does every day, and gets a smile and a slightly less deep bow in return, then greets the teachers before sliding onto the stool behind the piano.

Once again, he really _wants_ to be nice to the lead dancer, but the second he spots the other boy from across the room he feels the annoyance boiling in his gut again. The way he stands alone—with a hand rested at his hip and his chest puffed out a little, chin high—is enough to drive Jaemin up the wall. The sneer on his face as he talks to one of the other students—similar to the one he wore when he talked to Jaemin for the first time—does the rest.

The dancers line up into their positions for the first dance they are going to practice when Mrs Kang claps her hands, and Mrs Choi gives Jaemin a sign to start playing. Renjun isn’t participating in this dance, so Jaemin has time to focus on the music and watch the dancers’ beautiful movements, all while pointedly ignoring the other boy’s stares that seem to burn holes into the side of his head.

Jaemin has loved watching other people dance since he was a kid, which is why he was so interested in watching Renjun practice before he knew him, because as much as he dislikes him now, he can’t deny that the boy moves with a fluidity and grace that Jaemin has yet to find in another student in this room.

Before he knows it, he finishes the song and Mrs Jung claps. “That was great already!” she says, patting a girl’s shoulder lightly. “We’re gonna do it once more, and don’t forget your posture. Especially some of the boys seem to let their shoulders hang a little. You need to stand absolutely straight, okay?” She looks around for approval on her students’ faces, and Jaemin wrinkles his nose in distaste when he sees Renjun jeer at the others from the corner of his eyes. “Well, once more!” Mrs Jung gestures at Jaemin, not noticing Renjun.

They go through the choreography two more times before the teachers ask Renjun and Soyeon to show their _pas de deux_ —Jaemin is only slowly learning all those complicated French terms—and the two lead dancers step forward. Jaemin notices a slightly older looking woman watching Soyeon with a proud smile, and thinks that it must be her sister.

While dancing together with a woman, the man’s main task is to hold her in poses, something seemingly very simple and yet incredibly exhausting, and Jaemin secretly marvels at Renjun’s gracefulness.

Good intentions or not, he can’t hold back a vicious snicker when Soyeon almost slips from Renjun’s hold, as the boy placed his hand on her hip way too lightly. She stumbles for a moment before regaining posture, while Renjun spins around to glare at the pianist.

“ _How,_ do you think, are we ever going to get this on stage if you keep mocking me for every mistake?” he snaps, his voice barely more than a hiss. Soyeon tries to place a calming hand on his arm, but he shakes her off. “I’m the star here and you’re only supposed to support us. Who do you even think you are?”

Jaemin snorts, turning to sort his note sheets and not even sparing the dancer a glance when he says, “We won’t be able to stage this if you keep making mistakes anyway, so I don’t exactly see the problem in me.” There’s a surge of hotness in his gut and his eyesight momentarily blurs with something that almost feels like a twisted kind of excitement, like every time he says something he knows will hurt someone.

He still doesn’t look at him, but he can imagine exactly the lightning cracking in Renjun’s eyes and the way his cheeks redden with anger. “You won’t even be _on_ that stage, yet you think you’re entitled to comment and give your opinion when no one asked you.”

“And _you_ think you can just disregard everybody in this room and call yourself the star of this production. Do you really think you’re that much better than everyone or is that just pretense to hide your lack of actual character?”

He finally looks up, his own cheeks now also flushed red with the weird power he feels surging hotly through his veins, spurring him on. Renjun’s fiery gaze meets his own, and Jaemin watches as the dancer opens his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by Mrs Kang.

“That’s enough now, boys.” Her voice in unusually cool, and when Jaemin turns to look at her, he finds her standing on the other side of the piano, a scarily dark expression on her face. The other students are sitting on the floor behind her, some of them watching the events with eyes as big as saucers, other pretending to be distracted by their phones. Mr Park, Mrs Jung and Mrs Choi all wear different levels of disappointment on their faces.

It always happens exactly like this. But this time Jaemin feels a little worse when Mrs Choi won’t meet his eyes. The hotness in his veins fades as quickly as it came, and he looks down at his note sheets again, in shame this time.

“We need to find a solution to his,” Mrs Kang continues. “You two can’t work together like this, and if we want this to work, you will need to. So you will need some team building exercises. Any ideas?”

Silence falls over the room for a moment, most of the students looking down at the floor or their hands now. Jaemin is sure that they all distinctly remember the team building they had to go through during freshman orientation, learning names and getting to know each other through stupid games and partner exercises, and nobody is keen on going through that again.

Mrs Jung scuttles forward. She’s a petite woman in maybe her early fifties, grey streaks running through her short bob and a few wrinkles lining her forehead. Her thin fingers are clutching a rather crumpled piece of paper with notes she always takes throughout the practices. “I actually researched some team building activities, specifically for these two. And I found some that I actually like…”

It’s maybe the first time Jaemin and Renjun agree with each other when they look at each other in equal horror.

 

* * *

 

“They _can’t_ be serious,” Jaemin states as he stares down at Renjun’s pale face, the other boy slightly shorter than himself. Which was exactly the reason why he’s in the worse position out of the two of them. Maybe also the fact that he is significantly broader than Renjun’s rather lithe frame.

“Oh, but they made it very clear that they are,” the dancer says, a smug little smile sitting on his lips. Of course he enjoys this, which really isn’t fair, because all of this seems to only be a punishment for Jaemin.

They’re standing just inside the science building, students rushing past them and giving them confused looks, since they are blocking part of the way for everyone that walks in through the doors.

The dance teachers—and Mrs Choi, the traitor—are making Jaemin carry Renjun on his back everywhere he needs to go for an entire week, claiming that it would help them get closer and stop the fighting. Or it would make them so sick of each other that one of them voluntarily drops out of the production, which would also create peace, according to Mrs Kang. She also threatened that if they don’t follow through with it, they’d both be kicked out.

Jaemin can feel the way Mrs Choi stares at him from her post at the top of the stairs, so he sighs and gets down on one knee, his bag sliding off his shoulder. Renjun isn’t that heavy, and he holds himself up instead of slumping against his back, but Jaemin thinks that might be habit rather than intention. After all, you need to have impeccable posture if you want to be as good at ballet as Renjun is. He wraps his arms around Jaemin’s neck and his legs around his hips, his warmth settling almost comfortably against the other boy’s back.

Jaemin carries Renjun all the way through the building to his biology class—because apparently the dancer is minoring in physical therapy next to his major in ballet. Mrs Choi gives them a satisfied smirk before disappearing to god knows where, but other than that, they only get weird stares from both students and professors.

“This is entirely your fault,” Jaemin grumbles under his breath. While Renjun wasn’t heavy at first, his arms start to get heavier with every passing second, and the exhaustion weighs down on him.

“ _My_ fault?” Renjun hisses back, apparently not as smug anymore now that he realized how many people are staring at them. “You’re the one who always felt the need to start fights in the middle of practice. I at least would’ve had the common sense to wait until everyone is gone if it wasn’t for you starting every time.”

Jaemin clicks his tongue, annoyed. “And why did I start the fights? Because you’re an arrogant asshole who doesn’t know how to share the spotlight. You should hear yourself talking sometimes, I wouldn’t want to be one of the dancers you keep degrading and patronizing with every sentence that comes out of your mouth. It’s seriously disgusting.” The power surges are back, his sight flickering in front of his eyes.

He feels the Renjun’s fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders and holds back a gasp. So far, their fights never got physical, but maybe that would change today. Of course, they could both forget about participating in the play if they let it come that far.

He drops the Renjun off at his class, and they schedule a time for Jaemin to pick him up again. The pianist has to run across campus to not be late for his own class.

 

* * *

 

It goes on like that for the rest of the first day. They bicker and fight like they would in the studio, and only a couple of hours in, Jaemin is already planning on simply throwing Renjun down the stairs. He could make it look like an accident and keep his place in the ballet.

Renjun also seems to have realized that this whole ordeal isn’t as great for him, either. Jaemin isn’t sure when exactly he came to that insight, if it was when he and Jaemin fought over the same thing for the fourth time that day, or when he had to spend the rest of his free morning sitting in the other boy’s general psych class because Jaemin didn’t have time to drop him off at the dance building or his dorm, but he for sure knows that the dancer is a lot more sulky now than he was this morning.

They don’t have practice scheduled for today, but Renjun still meets up with Soyeon in the ballet room to work on their _pas de deux,_ forcing Jaemin to once again sprint across campus to make it to his stat class on time. And when he picks him up again, Renjun makes him carry him all the way back to his dorm building.

By the time Jaemin drops into his bed that night, his whole body is sore and he is sure he could fall asleep just like that, if only there weren’t heaps of homework waiting for him.

The looks Donghyuck gives him are almost pitiful. Almost, because Jaemin catches him snickering behind his back a couple of times. The third time it happens, he annoyedly flips him the finger, and regrets it immediately when his biceps screams in protest. He has no idea how he’s supposed to carry Renjun like that again tomorrow.

“I told you you shouldn’t have stopped working out at the beginning of the year,” Donghyuck says. He’s sitting on their kitchen counter and sipping chocolate milk from a straw while pretending to read in the textbook lying on the countertop next to him. He likes to fill the chocolate milk from the cartons into cups to act like he’s being healthy and made it himself instead of drinking the premade stuff. “It was good for you, really. You went to bed earlier, finished your assignments on time … I’ve only seen you going downhill since you’ve stopped.”

Jaemin, currently seated at the kitchen table about a meter away from his roommate, snorts and buries his nose deeper in his own textbook, not really reading what was written there. “I’m not in the mood to be roasted by someone who has never even seen a gym from the inside.”

Donghyuck shrugs and places his empty cup in the sink. “I’m not going to pretend I have. But I still worry about you, dude. Maybe you should just drop that ballet. Is a bit of tinkling on your piano while some people you barely even know hop around to it in pompous costumes really worth that much effort?”

Jaemin doesn’t answer, and Donghyuck leaves the kitchen after another sigh.

“It is, it is,” he whispers into the silence his best friend leaves behind.

 

* * *

 

They run out of insults and topics to fight about at the end of the second day, and the silence that falls between them is awkward. Renjun just sits there, on his back, his legs folded around Jaemin’s hips and his cheek ever so lightly brushing the tips of Jaemin’s hair, and says nothing. And Jaemin walks, his arms straining where they hold Renjun’s legs up and his back aching, and responds in equal silence.

They go to practice, but Jaemin is too tired to comment on anything Renjun does, even when he nearly slips and Soyeon has to grab his arms to not crash to the ground, and just focuses on the feeling of the piano keys giving beneath his fingers. The teachers seem pleased with the turn of events, and Mrs Choi gives Jaemin a proud pat on the shoulder by the time practice is over.

Donghyuck makes him tea when he returns in the evening, and puts some kind of documentary on, but he doesn’t say anything and disappears behind his bedroom door as soon as he is sure Jaemin is comfortably settled into the cushion of their couch. He looked sullen, and Jaemin frowns as he stares at the wooden plank that is his door.

When he gets up the next morning, Donghyuck is still sleeping and his door is locked, so Jaemin, even though really worried about his friend, can do nothing but leave for the day.

The silence between himself and the boy sitting on his back is as heavy as it was the day before, and Jaemin can’t think of a way to ease it. It’s getting colder, and the fabric of Renjun’s soft sweater gently rubs against the side of his neck, his warm weight protecting Jaemin from the cold.

“Are you not hurting?” Renjun’s voice is unusually mellow when he suddenly speaks up. Jaemin can feel the muscles in the other boy’s thighs hardening where they rest on his lower arms, as if scared that Jaemin would tell him off for disrupting the silence. It’s the first time Jaemin can remember Renjun being afraid of anything the younger boy could do. “My arms would be falling off at this point if I was in your position.”

Jaemin snorts. “And I thought ballet dancers would for sure be stronger than me.”

Another silence unfolds, but only for a couple of moments before Renjun interrupts it again. “I _am_ strong, I have to lift some of my female co-dancers up in certain dances. But being able to have a tiny woman sitting on my shoulder for a few seconds doesn’t mean I can just carry a boy roughly my own height around for three consecutive days.”

Jaemin doesn’t answer for a moment. Renjun hums a soft tune under his breath, and the sudden tightness in Jaemin’s chest is entirely foreign to him. “Yeah, I am hurting,” he says after a moment, quietly. “Pretty badly.”

The melody stops. “I could walk, you know.”

Jaemin frowns and looks up. He keeps his head down while they walk most of the time, and the back of his neck feels stiff when he raises it. They are only about twenty meters from the science building, where Renjun has his first class of the day and where one of their teachers is surely waiting to see if they’re still following through with their exercise. “And get both of us kicked out?” he asks with a scoff. “Sure, have fun.”

It’s silent between them again after that, the only thing to hear being the faint melody Renjun is humming.

 

* * *

 

“You know, I meant it when I said that your dancing is beautiful,” Jaemin mumbles under his breath as they make their way down the stairs of the performing arts building after practice on the fourth day. Renjun’s chest is pressed closer to his back than usually, and the boy hears every word he says.

Practice was good today, Renjun didn’t drop Soyeon this time and they danced through their _pas de deux_ without any mistakes. The dance teachers were more than pleased, and only criticized little things, like the way Soyeon had to hold her arms up just a few centimeters higher in one pose, or how Renjun should place his hands a little higher while holding her, or else he would crumple her skirt once she wore her costume. Renjun, too, was pleased and was already humming his melody when he climbed on Jaemin’s back.

The older boy hums, not melodic this time. “Thank you,” he says, and Jaemin can feel his small fingers resting on his shoulder. “You’re really good at playing the piano, too. And …” He huffs a deep breath, and breaks off the sentence. It’s silent for a while between them, the awkwardness of it all creeping into Jaemin’s bones.

They make their way down the stairs from the studio. Renjun’s dormitory isn’t far from the building, which Jaemin supposes is on purpose. It’s a little late already, practice having taken longer than usually, and not many people are out anymore, just a few night owls strolling about.

“And I’m sorry I acted like such a jerk when we first met,” Renjun continues his previously broken off sentence all of a sudden, his voice a lot higher and softer than Jaemin is used to. “That wasn’t nice, but I’m … not very open towards new people, usually. Which isn’t fair because I was new, too. I’ve been meaning to apologize, but I never got around to it. With all the fighting, it never seemed right.”

Jaemin is surprised by the dancer’s words, to say the least. He expected a lot of things to happen during this week, including the death of at least one of them, but the thing he least expected is Renjun apologizing, on top of that on day four, only. He turns his head a little, but the only thing he sees is the blue fabric that covers Renjun’s shoulder, and his small hand resting on his own arm. He can hear him breathing like this, though, a little ragged and faster than normal.

“I …,” he starts, having to clear his throat before being able to speak on. “I’m sorry, too. For being such an asshole just because you weren’t that nice to me in the beginning. And for starting this mess.”

Renjun hums in agreement, and Jaemin can feel the vibrations against his back.

It’s awkward again afterwards, but not nearly as tense. When Jaemin drops Renjun off at the door to his classroom, the dancer turns around to look at him instead of walking straight to his seat like he usually would, and the little tug of muscles on his face almost, _almost_ , looked like a smile.

 

* * *

 

It gets easier after that.

Jaemin can’t exactly explain why those simple and awkward apologies changed so much of what was wrong between the two of them before, but all of a sudden, the two boys talk like actual human beings, instead of just hurling mean things or snapping at each other like teenagers.

Renjun talks about China, about his family and how he grew up with both his parents being dancers, putting high expectations into him even when he was still a little kid, how he was shown around to his parents’ acquaintances like a prize or something especially expensive after he won his first competition when he was only six years old. How he came to Korea only to break free from the pressure, and fell in love with the little college’s ballet productions. He gets a dreamy tone to his voice when he tells him this, and Jaemin can’t help but notice that he seems a little drowsy, momentarily questioning if maybe he’s taking advantage of the boy’s constantly sleepy state.

Jaemin doesn’t talk about himself that much, which maybe is to be put down to the fact that he is way more awake and alert than the tired out dancer. He does, however, go back to watching Renjun practice.

Even though Renjun seems to be more tired than all students on campus combined, with his schedule packed to the bursting and his nights filled with finishing assignments and readings rather than dreams for the most part, his movements when he dances still hold a never-seen grace to them.

During his free periods, Jaemin finds himself sitting in the back of the practice room more often than not, pretending to read his textbooks while waiting for Renjun, when his eyes are really following the boy’s every step. He has seen many people dance in his life, has even found himself in front of a mirror a couple of times, but none of them tied the music around their moves quite like the Chinese boy in front of him does.

The rest of the week passes like this. Their teachers seem pleased with the peace and even beginnings of a friendship that blossomed, but Jaemin doesn’t really care about their opinions anymore. He just heaves Renjun onto his back and listens to his soft voice floating into his ears, and ignores the fluttering of contentment in his chest when he watches him dance, or watches him nap, curled up in a chair next to Jaemin during his free periods when he sometimes has to sit through Jaemin’s classes.

He’s almost a little sad when he puts the dancer down in front of his dorm door on the evening of the last day. The boy is wearing the same soft blue sweater he wore on the third day, the wide fabric falling past his hips and his palms, and there are dark circles beneath his eyes, a sight Jaemin is already used to.

“So,” Renjun says. Jaemin can’t help but notice how much softer his voice when talking to Jaemin became throughout the week, the harsh edge to his words long gone.

“So,” Jaemin replies. He can’t say if his own voice became softer, too.

They stare at each other for a moment, before they both burst out laughing. It’s the first time they let go around each other like this, and Jaemin feels something heavy fall of his chest when Renjun reaches out his hand to steady himself on Jaemin’s shoulder.

“So,” Renjun repeats a moment later, when they have calmed down. His eyes are sparkling a little, distracting from the dark circles underneath them. “I guess this is it. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”

Jaemin nods, the smiles a little and says, “Yes. Yes, see you tomorrow.”

Renjun has already turned around and unlocked his door, and is in the motion of stepping over the threshold, when Jaemin suddenly reaches out to put a hand on his arm. “Wait.”

The older boy turns back around him. His features are so relaxed and soft now, a stark contrast to the tension appearing in the lines of his face whenever he would look at the pianist a week ago. Jaemin’s insides warm up a little when he notices this.

“I just—” He breaks off and clears his throat a little awkwardly. “I don’t think we have to pretend to dislike each other anymore. So, would you like to grab lunch with me some time? I think we have a few free periods around lunch time together throughout the week, if I remember correctly.”

Renjun seems surprised, but then he nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” Jaemin finally turns around, waving awkwardly.

“See you tomorrow, Jaeminnie.”

It would be an understatement to say that Jaemin’s heart jumped up and down in excitement at the nickname.

 

* * *

 

“I used to dance when I was younger, too,” Jaemin says, dipping his fry into the mayonnaise.

“You did?” Renjun looks up from where he’s been reading in the campus newspaper. His glasses, which he only wears while reading, slid down to the tip of his nose, and Jaemin has to fight the urge to push them back up.

These little lunch or dinner dates (is he allowed to call them that? He never asked Renjun) have become a routine between them for the past few weeks since their “team building activity” ended. They exchanged phone numbers and would text each other after classes, or when they’re bored, to just grab something to eat at their favorite little diner in the corner of campus, and hang out in one of the booths.

“Yeah.” Jaemin nods. “I wanted to make my life as musical as possible, so I started playing the piano and dancing. I also took vocal lessons at some point, but I was terrible, so I stopped.”

Renjun hums and finally pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Why did you stop dancing?”

He’s wearing that blue sweater again, and Jaemin has a feeling that it might be his favorite article of clothing, with how often he’s worn it the past weeks. Jaemin has taken a liking to it, too, still remembering how soft the fabric felt against the side of his neck. Not to mention how much the blue compliments Renjun’s skin and hair color, and how soft he looks drowning in all the fabric.

“I slipped and fell one time during practice for this really big event. It would’ve been my first real competition, but I injured my back really badly and was advised to not dance for a while.” Jaemin shrugs and finally shoves the fry into his mouth. “It’s better now, but I guess I just never started again.”

“Oh.” There’s understanding and maybe something like pity in Renjun’s eyes. “Did you like it, though?”

“I loved it,” Jaemin laughs out. He would never forget the feeling that overcame him every time he felt his body moving along in time with the beat of the music, the electricity pumping through his veins instead of blood, setting him on fire and keeping him going, never wanting to stop. He would never forget the pride that settled in his chest like a warm, comforting weight whenever someone complimented him on the way he danced, whenever his mom pulled him into her arms with a proud smile on her face, or his dad ruffled his hair, saying, Good job, son. “I just never got around to it anymore, not with all the stress. It’s hard to get back in once you’re out.”

Renjun picks up the last fry out of their shared portion, his fingers glistening with the grease. Jaemin knows that the dancer would have to work all the junk food he ate tonight off in the morning again, but he tries not to think too hard about it. He knows how important professionalism is to his friend (are they friends? He guesses they are, by now).

“So you haven’t danced since the injury, like, at all?” Renjun asks before popping the fry into his mouth.

Jaemin shakes his head. “I’d love to do it again, one day, but … I don't know. It got me out of some really awkward situations, though. Going to prom with an actual partner instead of my group of friends, for example. Or having to dance at my aunt’s wedding three years ago. My back didn’t hurt in the slightest anymore back then, but I still got to use it as an excuse, so I can’t really complain.”

Renjun chuckles, the smile on his face honestly amused. “Lucky you, prom was the awkwardest thing that ever happened to me. Especially because both I and the girl I went with were painfully gay, and we just wanted to get it over with.” He gets a really miserable expression on his face at the memory, and Jaemin barks out a laugh.

“You could bond with my friend, Jeno, something very similar happened to him. Only that he’s straight and went with another straight guy as a joke. Turned out it wasn’t as funny as they thought it would be, it was just awkward.”

Renjun shudders at the thought. “Weird. Did you go to high school with him?”

Jaemin nods. “Yeah, but we weren’t that close back then. Mark hyung, Donghyuck, and I were inseparable, and we only adopted him after Hyuckie and I followed Mark hyung here and he somehow tagged along. But there doesn’t go a single day without him complaining about his prom experience.”

Renjun chuckles again, and Jaemin finds something about that sound weirdly attractive.

“Do you miss your friends in China?” Jaemin asks after a moment of silence, not sure if this is maybe a touchy subject for the dancer, even if he has never shown any difficulties talking about his home.

Renjun contemplates his answer, before he eventually replies, “I don’t think I had many friends to begin with. I told you, I started participating in dance competitions when I was six years old, and I even went to a special high school for contemporary arts. There isn’t much room in your life for friends when your parents constantly pressure you to be the best in everything you do. Though I had some sunbaes in school that I looked up to and occasionally hung out with.”

When he notices Jaemin looking at him with pitying eyes, Renjun quickly laughs and raises his hands in defense. “No, don’t look at me like that. I told you I came to Korea to escape the pressure, and it worked. I have friends now, I have Soyeon noona, and Chenle, and Lucas hyung, and you.”

Jaemin tries to hide his smile by taking a big gulp from his cup of soda, but it’s so wide that he’s sure Renjun saw it anyways.

When they walk home later that night, their arms brush and Jaemin feels as giddy as he hasn’t in a while.

 

* * *

 

“You’re totally, absolutely gone, and by that you’re most likely also really fucked,” is what Donghyuck concludes when Jaemin tells him about the weird fluttering in his chest that he sometimes gets when he looks at Renjun.

Jaemin snorts, but there’s a flare of worry in his chest that Donghyuck might be right as he buries himself deeper into the pillows on their couch, trying to disappear from his friends’ serious stares. Jeno is sitting on the armchair across from the couch Donghyuck and Jaemin are lazing on, while Mark is sitting on the floor on the other side of the little table in the middle of the room. The air around them gets thicker every time he and Donghyuck interact, and though Jaemin isn’t quite sure of what happened between them yet, he thinks it’s better to separate them for now.

“And you know this why?” Jaemin grunts into the pillow stuffed right in his face. “Because you’re suddenly an expert on love? Last time I checked, the only relationship you ever had was in kindergarten, and the girl dumped you for your best friend in first grade.”

Jeno cackles, while Donghyuck throws Jaemin a dirty glare. Mark only gets a small smile on his face, and his two best friends’ behavior is starting to thoroughly worry Jaemin.

“I _know_ this,” Donghyuck says, puffing out his chest, “because nobody in this whole country has watched as many dramas in their lifetime as I have, so I know the many different faces and aspects of love like the back of my hand. You like him, but you pretend that you don’t because it already took you so long to be friends, and you don’t want to risk losing that.”

Jaemin frowns at his friend. “Or maybe you have watched one drama too many and are interpreting way too much into this, when I’m probably just excited to have made a new friend.”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue impatiently. “Sure, Jan. If thinking that makes you feel better about yourself. When’s your next date with him again?”

Donghyuck is sitting only about a foot away from him, but Jaemin still throws a pillow at his face with as much force as he can muster, relishing in the satisfying sound of fabric slapping against skin. “Tomorrow night,” he mutters under his breath, and Jeno still can’t stop cackling.

 

* * *

 

“Where are we going?” Jaemin asks, stumbling along behind Renjun. It’s dark around them already, otherwise he might’ve been able to identify the area.

Renjun doesn’t answer him, but he’s humming again, and Jaemin relishes in the warm feeling the soft melody causes to spread in his chest every time. The older boy’s hand is clasped around his wrist, gently pulling him along while making sure he doesn’t run into anything on the way.

“Is this … the studio?” Jaemin asks, surprised, when they reach a door and Renjun fumbles with a key. The building is completely dark except for the emergency lamp in the hallway, and the harsh, yellow light illuminates the soft planes of Renjun’s face when the dancer turns back to smile at him. The door opens, and Renjun’s hand returns to his wrist, though maybe sliding a bit lower, the heels of their hands touching shyly. “Please don’t tell me you want to practice now. It’s the middle of the night.”

Renjun still doesn’t open his mouth, but he shakes his head and pulls Jaemin inside.

The dance building by night is oddly familiar, yet completely different. The darkness makes the hallways look longer and strange, unexplored, and the silence seems through echo through the empty rooms. Jaemin feels a shiver running down his spine.

Renjun uses his keys to turn the electricity on in their practice room, and a weight falls off Jaemin’s chest, seeing that it looks exactly the same as it does during the day: yellow walls, wooden floor, high tech stereo equipment in one corner, a polished, black piano in another, mirrors lining one of the walls, and scripts, notebooks and pose advice tomes stacked on top of shelves on the opposite wall. Renjun throws the bag he brought onto the worn out couch by the door, and stretches, looking a little like a cat.

“So what are we doing here, if you don’t want to practice?” Jaemin asks, fidgeting in his place.

“Well,” Renjun says, and it’s the first thing he’s said in a while. He smiles ominously and walks over to the stereo in the corner, working around with it. “You told me you haven’t danced since your injury, which must’ve been a few years ago already. And I don’t think you can confidently play the piano for a ballet if you’ve forgotten how it feels to dance yourself. So?” He turns back around and reaches out his hand for Jaemin to take.

Jaemin wants to argue that he’s played at ballets before, but the player behind Renjun clicks, and a soft melody starts playing. He faintly recognizes the rhythm, but he can’t put a name to the dance, not even when his hand finds Renjun’s and he’s pulled close and into a series steps that come to him naturally, almost like the music.

“This is kind of awkward,” he half-whispers with a nervous smile on his lips, referring to the unnaturally big space between them and the way their feet seem to step around each other.

Renjun looks up at him, and for a moment Jaemin thinks it’s unfair how his eyes literally sparkle, and how his cheeks are tinged just the right shade of pink to complement the rest of his skin color. “It doesn’t have to be,” he says, and his next step is a little wider, bringing him closer to Jaemin’s chest. Reflexively, the younger boy tightens the arm he has around the dancer’s back.

His movements are mildly rusty and insecure, but Renjun doesn’t complain. They spin around the room until they lose track of time, hands clasped firmly together and chests almost touching, until they warm up to each other and their steps grow even closer and more confident.

Jaemin feels that rush in his blood again, but it’s different now. Where it used to be bolts of electricity spurring him on, it’s now more like a warm flame flowing through his veins and keeping him going at a steady pace. While his focus used to be on being as good as possible, delivering the steps as powerful as he could, it now lies on the warm body between his arms, the soft face merely inches away from his own. It feels so different from what he remembers, yet so familiar, and so much better. He doesn’t need anyone to be proud of him, he doesn’t need to be good. It’s comforting.

They dance through multiple songs, until the music stops after the last track and they come to stand, both panting a little. Renjun raises his head to look at Jaemin. Parts of his fringe stick to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks are of a deeper red now, but the smile on his face has even broadened.

Even the worn down cushioning of the probably decades-old couch looks inviting to their tired bodies, and they collapse onto it together, Renjun turning to procure water bottles and dried fruit snacks out of the bag he threw here earlier.

They sit in silence, refreshing, and Renjun is so warm, and so, so close, his shoulder pressed against Jaemin’s and their knees knocking together and his hand resting on the pianist’s arm. Jaemin looks over at him, and he can count the older boy’s lashes and see the barely noticeable splatter of freckles, almost more like minimally discolored bits of skin, on top of his cheekbones. He’s not wearing make up tonight, and the dark circles under his eyes are even more visible than usually. Jaemin’s stomach churns with something like worry.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asks, his voice quiet. Renjun turns to look at his face in surprise, and Jaemin feels the air being knocked out of his lungs by how beautiful he is. It gets even worse when the dancer lifts the corners of his mouth slightly up in his softest smile.

“To be honest, you look a lot more tired than I feel,” he says, and Jaemin thinks that he might be right. His limbs feel too heavy for his body to carry, and after a few more moments of silence and two sips of water, he feels himself slumping against the older boy more and more, the warm hand stroking up and down his arm not really helping his situation.

“You can lie down for a bit, if you want. I’d guess it’s been a while since you’ve done this,” Renjun offers with a low chuckle, and that’s how Jaemin ends up falling asleep with his head rested on the dancer’s thigh and his hand in his hair, the soft melody Renjun is always humming filling his ears.

 

* * *

 

They’re on another one if their dinner dates (Jaemin has stopped wondering if he’s allowed to call them that, figuring that as long as it’s all in his head, Renjun can’t say anything against it), and Renjun looks more tired than usually. He hasn’t bothered to put on make up, apparently, and his dark circles are nearly black by now. His shoulders are slumped, and he’s just hanging over the table at this point, his portion of fries still untouched.

“Renjun.” Jaemin reaches over the table to put a hand on the dancer’s shoulder, wincing internally when the other boy flinches in surprise at the touch. “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it today.”

Renjun blinks slowly, then nods. “Yes, yes. I’m just a little tired, is all. I stayed up too long last night, I had an assignment to finish and wanted to start on my essay for literature. It’s my mandatory requirement class and our professor does regular check-ins, it’s kind of annoying.”

Jaemin nods in understanding, but he can’t help but worry when he sees Renjun’s eyes slipping closed again and again. He waves over a waitress, a cheerful girl he vaguely remembers to have the name Yerim, and pays for both of them, even though he’s only halfway through his food and Renjun hasn’t even started eating. But the dancer seems close to collapsing face forward into his plate, and Jaemin doesn’t want to risk a disaster.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he says, helping Renjun out his seat.

The older boy wobbles out the diner on shaky legs, and Jaemin wonders how he made it here in the first place. Yerim shoots them a worried glance, but Jaemin waves her off, signalizing that he’s handling it.

By the time they’re outside, Renjun’s head is hanging so low that his chin is lying on his chest, and his knees are giving in with every step. “Okay, I can’t get you back to your dorm like this, any ideas?”

“Well, I mean, you could carry me.” The dancer is blinking so slowly that his eyes are closed longer than they are open, but he still manages to bring his lips up into a smirk. Jaemin has to stop himself from shaking his head at him. “That’s how all of this started, after all.”

Jaemin does roll his eyes after all, but he figures that it might not be such a bad idea.

it’s a bit of a hustle getting the sleepy boy on his back, and he’s most certainly a lot heavier now that he’s slumped against him and instead of holding himself up like he used to do when Jaemin carried him around every day, but they somehow make do. Jaemin still ends up carrying Renjun to his own dorm, because for one, he doesn’t know if Renjun would be able to get his keys out of his pocket in this state, and two, it’s kind of exhausting to carry him still, and Jaemin and Donghyuck’s place is way closer to the diner. Besides, the dancer is so sleepy that Jaemin is sure he won’t mind crashing on Jaemin’s couch for a night, anyway.

Donghyuck isn’t home, luckily, so Jaemin can just set his friend down on the couch. He’s also free to take anything he wants out of the fridge without judgment, so he collects some chocolate cookies from the kitchen and his blanket from his bedroom, and warms up some cacao in the microwave before joining Renjun on the couch.

The older boy is still awake, barely, and when he sees what Jaemin brought, he smiles sloppily and says, “You’re so nice.”

“I really am,” Jaemin says with a grin, plopping down next to Renjun and wrapping the blanket around the older boy, tucking it around his shoulders neatly until he looks like a giant blanket burrito. Renjun falls into the dip of his chest and Jaemin puts an arm around him, using the other one to feed him the cookies.

The TV doesn’t show anything really interesting, but Jaemin settles on some mildly thrilling action movie and sets the volume low, as to not disrupt the resting boy on his chest. Renjun is humming again, anyways, the melody even softer than usually, and his fingers are tracing patterns on Jaemin’s sweater in the rhythm of the music. Jaemin has never asked what he’s humming, but he hopes that someday Renjun will share it with him.

The melody dies slowly when Renjun eventually falls asleep nestled against the younger boy’s chest, but Jaemin doesn’t mind. He rests his head on top of the dancer’s, buries his cheek in the soft locks of brown hair, and lets his own eyes fall closed.

 

* * *

 

Jaemin is woken up in the middle of the night by Renjun wrestling out of his arms and shuffling around on the couch, obviously much more awake than he was in the evening.

He turns towards him and stretches his back and arms, trying to get rid of a little bit of the stiffness that took over his body while he slept in that rather uncomfortable position. “Renjun?” he asks, and the older boy visibly flinches, before he turns around with a small smile.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, fidgeting a little. He’s seated a good foot away from Jaemin now, a stark contrast to him being literally snuggled against his chest what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes ago.

“What are you doing?” Jaemin asks, sitting up. He probably looks a mess, with his hair and clothes rumpled from sleep and crumbs all over his t-shirt and lap from the cookies he fed Renjun before the older boy fell asleep. “Is everything okay? You look a little jumpy.”

Renjun tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and Jaemin remembers how he told him once that he never gets around to cutting it, so it always grows a little too long at the sides. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just …” He sighs and slumps forward again, faceplanting into Jaemin’s shoulder. “What is this?” he asks after a moment. “In fear of sounding like a horribly cheesy romantic drama: What are we? Are we friends? Are we more than that? It would be nice if you gave me some answers, because I don’t have any.”

Jaemin is a little stunned, but he puts his arm around Renjun anyway and pulls him closer, so that he slides out of the uncomfortable position with his face squashed against the younger boy’s shoulder. Renjun scoots back to him over the couch and they find themselves in a position similar to the one they napped in again. Jaemin takes note of how well Renjun fits into the crook of his neck, as if he was made it to lie there.

“I guess we are whatever you want us to be,” Jaemin says and ignores Renjun’s groan about how cheesy they sound. “If you want to be my friend, that’s fine I guess. If you want to be more than that, you just have to tell me.”

Jaemin himself is surprised by how collected he sounds. He didn’t even know that he’s so sure about what he wants from Renjun, but apparently his heart is way ahead of his brain.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds being their breaths and the noises coming from the TV that set itself on standby at some point while they were sleeping. Finally, Renjun raises his head a little to look at Jaemin, and the sparkles in his eyes remind Jaemin of the day they danced together.

“I don’t really know what I want,” he says with a sigh, and the laugh that escapes Jaemin’s lips before he can hold it in is a little hysteric, a little panicked.

“That makes two of us, then.”

And really, Jaemin never thought about what he wanted, got nervous and uncomfortable every time Donghyuck brought it up, every time his best friend hinted at him and Renjun _maybe, possibly_ being more than they said they are, and banned all thoughts about it from his head, resolutely. But now that he sits here, Renjun’s warm weight settled comfortably against him and the dancer’s face just inches away from his own, his heart is aching for so much more than just friendship. It’s weird, thinking like this when just two months ago, he felt like he was going to be sick every time he so much as heard the other boy’s voice, but now he wants nothing more than to wrap his small frame up in his arms and bury his face in the soft sweaters he always wears and let the dancer’s mellow melody lull him to sleep.

Renjun’s cheeks turn that shade of pink again, the one that looks just right, and Jaemin thinks, or rather, hopes, that maybe similar thoughts are running through his mind.

“Or maybe I do?” he adds and leans a little closer, their noses almost touching.

Renjun’s eyes widen the slightest bit, but he doesn’t back away, which Jaemin takes as a good sign. From this close, there’s not much he can see except for the dancer’s eyes, his mostly straight eyelashes, the curve of his upper lid and the tiny specks of gold in his dark irises.

“May I?” he asks, a little breathlessly. Renjun nods, and the hand he placed on Jaemin’s arm earlier tightens in anticipation.

It’s nothing spectacular. Just two pairs of lips softly pressing together, but Jaemin feels a major weight lifting from his chest. Just like dancing with Renjun, it’s not fireworks or bursts of electricity, but rather a familiar warmth slowly spreading through his limbs, a comforting flame. It feels like settling down, coming home to a place where you don’t need to good, where just being is enough.

And Jaemin doesn’t want it to ever stop. The arm he has around the dancer’s back pulls him impossibly closer, and he reaches up a hand to cup the older boy’s jaw. Renjun’s arms wind around his shoulders, and he feels as though they are going to melt together.

They eventually do break apart to breathe, but they stay as close, not risking to lose the warmth flowing between their bodies.

“Maybe I do, too,” Renjun mutters into the silent living room, settling against Jaemin’s chest again, while the younger boy smiles and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

 

(“It was the cutest yet most disgusting thing I ever witnessed,” Donghyuck would tell Jeno and Mark the next day over the phone, after walking in on the two boys still sleeping on the couch, legs intertwined and Renjun’s face pressed into the crook of Jaemin’s neck.

But for the first time, Jaemin wouldn’t mind Donghyuck shittalking his lovelife.)

 

* * *

 

Renjun’s best friends are great. It’s the first time Jaemin gets to meet them properly—other than rushed run-ins at Renjun’s apartment door—and they are maybe the funniest people he’s ever met.

“Hyung was amazing, wasn’t he?” Chenle says, grinning proudly at Renjun over the table as everyone agrees. “You were, hyung! You practiced so hard, and it really paid off. Tonight really proved that I can be proud to be your friend, I was a little unsure before.”

Renjun shoots him a playful glare. “Be careful what you say, brat.”

Chenle’s grin only widens, and Lucas joins in on the teasing after a while.

They are in a quite fancy restaurant, all dressed up in suits, surrounded by the other students of the ballet class and their friends, and occasionally family. Today was the opening night of the winter ballet, and it would be an understatement to say that it’s been a success. The venue was completely sold out not even a day after they started selling the tickets, and the dancers did not disappoint. Renjun and Soyeon as the lead roles really outdid themselves, but all the other dancers were amazing too.

Jaemin secured tickets for his friends, and they tagged along to the restaurant as well. Jeno is getting along with Jisung extremely well, and Mark and Donghyuck seem to enjoy talking to Chenle, despite the boy being younger than both of them. They also seem to have settled whatever argument they had.

Renjun is glowing when Jaemin looks over at him. He looks great in his suit, his smile his blinding and his cheeks gleam golden in the light of the chandeliers above their heads. Under the table, his warm fingers are wound together with Jaemin’s, and he squeezes them whenever he feels particularly happy during the conversations he’s having with multiple people that pass by their table.

His parents promised to come from China, since this is his first time dancing the lead role in a ballet as big as this, but Renjun doesn’t seem to mind that they didn’t. Jaemin asked him about it carefully when they were backstage after the ballet was over, but the older boy just shrugged and said that he didn’t expect them to really come anyway.

Mark is their designated driver tonight, and when they head out way too late to go home, Renjun is still beaming, and there is a light skip to his step. Jaemin enjoys seeing him this happy, and wraps an arm around his hip to pull him closer. The dancer sweetly pecks his cheek.

“Ugh, get a room,” Donghyuck complains from behind them, but there is no real bite to his words.

He manages to secure shotgun, so it’s Jeno who has to deal with sitting in the backseat next to them on their ride home, but he would later promise that they aren’t that bad to endure.

Jaemin keeps his arms locked around the older boy the entire drive, and Renjun once again falls asleep snuggled against his chest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this shitfest. i'm sorry if this was a let-down.
> 
> come scream at me about literally anything, and be it how much you hated this, on my [tumblr](http://spookyyjae.tumblr.com)


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